Comatose civilization; tamed desires of heaven; sleeping watchmen everywhere. Fields of tares under pleasant beds; our teeth sets on edge. The fence of once formidable family, weakened by the night stalker, when men slept; COMATOSED


If you meet her soul at the market square, the old lover, don’t judge her lonely feet. Sing her a new song, to remind her that, seasons may change but tomorrow will come


Comrades at heart, never ends at the dawn of darkness and death. At birth, i became a companion to the faces of people i encountered and those i will never meet.


Brothers and sisters: we are gifts that descended from the womb of God, born not of the flesh, invisibly connected, but worlds apart


Hey, divider of cities and nations. Wake up from your sleep. You’ve been fighting against yourself, your brothers and sisters. When I sing my song to the world, those who dance to my poetry lines are not an audience, they are soul connectors; brothers and sisters


Soul connectors are the enliven ones. They never sleep the sleep of common men [that divides] because their eyes are gatekeepers of the brotherhood of God. Those who never lamented because the fire was not at their doorsteps has died the death of self poverty; obsession and apathy

Season Of Becoming | 2022

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